Route 66- 100 Years of Hardship & Hope

If you’re itching to hit the pavement this summer, there’s perhaps no better year to take a spin on Route 66. In honor of the iconic highway turning 100, cities and towns across the U.S. are celebrating throughout 2026, with official national events kicking off this week.

Road trippers coasting along the famed thoroughfare won’t be bored: Route 66 boasts more than 250 sites listed on the National Register of Historic Places, including diners, bridges, and historic hotels. But a century ago, it was just a patchwork of local, state, and national roadways made largely from materials like dirt, gravel, and bricks. Only 800 of its initial 2,448 miles were paved — it would take another 12 years to complete the rest.

However, the route, also known as the Mother Road, was groundbreaking for its time. Its primary predecessor, the Lincoln Highway, opened the door to cross-country travel, but mostly for wealthy folks who could afford the pricey vehicles of the 1910s. Route 66’s debut coincided with the automobile boom of the 1920s, which helped lower the cost of long-distance trips and enabled more drivers to get on the road.

When it received its official designation in the summer of 1926, the U.S. 66 Highway Association described it as “the shortest, best, and most scenic route from Chicago through St. Louis to Los Angeles,” per the National Park Service. It also served as a lifeline for residents in rural communities. In the eight states it passes through — Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California — it increased traffic to small towns, which helped boost population growth and economic development across the West.

In the ’30s, Route 66 became a saving grace for those looking to migrate westward and escape the Dust Bowl in the south-central U.S. This plight was famously documented in John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath.

“Highway 66 is the main migrant road,” he wrote, adding, “66 is the path of a people in flight, refugees from dust and shrinking land.”

During World War II, particularly after western states were identified as ideal locations for military training bases, the country relied on the highway to transport troops and defense supplies. And after the war was over, Route 66 experienced a tourism boom — inspiring the lyric “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” by jazz musician Bobby Troup.

 

And for those of us over a certain age, who can forget Martin Milner and George Maharis as two young adventurers who drove the road in their Chevrolet Corvette on Friday nights from 1960-1964. Despite the name of the series, most episodes did NOT take place on the historic road, but in 25 different U.S. states, all on location. TV viewers were treated to episodes filmed in Carson City, Los Angeles, Toronto, Santa Fe, Reno, Tucson, Dallas and many more locales.

For the first time, Americans were beginning to think about automotive travel on a mass basis. This is a period when Americans had vacations, thanks to the boom in manufacturing and unionization drives that helped people earn a decent salary. And they wanted to drive west in their new car on their vacation.

Many of the highway’s now-nostalgic rest stops thrived during the ’40s and ’50s — think diners, gas stations, and convenient accommodation such as motels, auto camps, and motor courts. But 1956 marked the beginning of the end of Route 66’s glory days. The Federal-Aid Highway Act sparked the creation of nationwide interstate highways, which provided faster ways to cut across the U.S. but were often located away from small towns. By 1985, The American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials voted to remove Route 66’s highway signs, and it was officially decommissioned. recognizing its historical and cultural significance, the U.S.

Congress passed the Route 66 Study Act in 1990, leading to the National Park Service’s Route 66 Special Resource Study U.S. National Park Service. This effort resulted in the creation of the Route 66 Corridor Preservation Program, aimed at preserving significant structures, features, and artifacts associated with the highway U.S. National Park Service. Today, surviving stretches, museums, and roadside attractions continue to celebrate Route 66 as a symbol of Americana and the nation’s automotive heritage

Last week, the centennial’s official kickoff event featured the National Route 66 Centennial Telegraph Ball, a concert, and a parade in Springfield, Missouri — and the nationwide festivities will include everything from an auto show to a “light capsule.”

Route 66 remains a testament to the evolution of American transportation, the rise of automobile culture, and the enduring allure of the open road. Its legacy continues to inspire travelers and historians alike, reflecting both the economic and cultural transformations of the 20th century.

Happy 100th Birthday, Route 66!

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“The Marriage Box” – A History of Hope Chests

What is a hope chest? (Or rather, what was a hope chest?) The term tends to connotate a lot of different ideas and notions (it’s that “old thing” from the 19th century, right?), but have you ever thought about the actual history of the design, what it means and why it once flourished and is now all but perished? Something as simple as a piece of furniture might not seem that exciting, but, as it turns out, the hope chest has quite the history.

Historically, hope chests were large trunk chests that mothers would pass on to their daughters. Oftentimes, a mother would start preparing a hope chest from the time her daughter was a young age and slowly build the collection as the years went by. The chests contained many things like silverware, china, linens, clothing, and jewelry that were considered “essentials” for a young woman about to start a new life in marriage. It was also standard practice to include family heirlooms and mementos. Things like albums or photographs, letters or treasured objects passed down through the generations that may not have much monetary or practical value – but in which the young woman could find comfort.

The concept of the hope chest dates back thousands of years. Ancient Egyptians created wooden chests, often ornately decorated, to store valuables such as jewelry, coins, and travel essentials, reflecting both wealth and purpose; some of these chests, including those of King Tut, survive today in museums. In medieval Europe (5th–15th centuries), wooden chests became widespread, crafted from hardwoods like oak, walnut, and pine, often adorned with friezes, panels, and handles for practicality during times of war or travel. In Italy, the cassone, a large, elaborately decorated chest, was used in dynastic marriages to display wealth and serve as a dowry.

Hope chests were built and decorated based on the family’s wealth. In Italy, Sicilian women from poor families typically remained unmarried because they couldn’t afford to stuff their hope chests with twelve (12!) beds worth of linens. The quality of the linens in a woman’s hope chest represented how much of a “catch” she was.

Depending on the country, there is also a custom in which a child would prepare a dozen (again, 12!) quilt tops for her hope chest, with the 13th top being called a “bridal quilt.” Once she became engaged, there was a party in which women were invited to quilt all the tops together as they prepared for the bride’s impending nuptials.

The hope chest tradition spread across Europe, with variations such as dowry chests, trousseau chests, and glory boxes. These chests were used to collect household linens, clothing, quilts, and keepsakes for a bride-to-be. European immigrants, including German settlers in America, brought the tradition to the New World, where it became a practical part of daily life in the 1700s and 1800s.

By the mid to late 1800s, hope chests became more decorative and symbolic. They reflected Victorian ideals of domestic skill and respectability, and a well-made chest could also signal social standing. Many were now purchased rather than handmade.

Young women stored linens, quilts, and essentials in chests that reflected local materials and immigrant folk art styles Amish communities, in particular, crafted simple yet ornately painted chests, emphasizing skill, patience, and preparation for marriage. Mothers often began preparing a chest for their daughters from a young age, gradually filling it with essentials and family heirlooms.

Traditionally, hope chests were made of cedar, prized for its natural aroma and ability to repel insects, protecting fabrics and linens until marriage. (P.S. Clothes stored in a cedar chest or dresser smell so good!) Over time, other hardwoods such as cherry, oak, and maple were also used. Chests were often richly decorated, reflecting both personal taste and social status, and some were designed for portability to accommodate brides leaving home.

In the early 1900s, hope chests became a national tradition through the rise of the Lane Cedar Chest. Founded in 1912, Lane used mass production and marketing to turn cedar-lined chests into a common rite of passage for young women across America.

 

As a bride in the early 1970s, I never had one. But my mother had a Lane hope chest, and I recall spending hours looking at her wedding album, her gown, meaningful holiday cards, and valentines I made in school. However, there was one item in there that frightened the pudding out of me…It was a mink fur wrap with the head attached and used as a clasp…Eeww! I know they were popular in the 1940s…but even writing about it gives me the willies!!

Hope chests symbolized preparation for adulthood, marriage, and family life. They were both practical storage pieces and cultural artifacts, representing family expectations, craftsmanship, and the passing down of traditions While the practice has declined in modern times due to changing social norms and the reduced emphasis on dowries, hope chests remain meaningful as heirlooms, keepsakes, and decorative furniture.

Today, hope chests are no longer exclusively tied to marriage. They serve as storage for linens, quilts, toys, or family treasures, and are often valued for their aesthetic and sentimental qualities. Antique and modern versions continue to be crafted, preserving the tradition while adapting to contemporary lifestyles.

Ultimately, between the rise and fall of the hope chest, we can be assured that if there’s one thing that’s everlasting, it’s hope–even if our hopes have changed with the times.

 

The Tattoo Culture in the Civil War

 

If you read the Fillies’ “It’s Yee-Haw Day” on Monday, you know that I got a tattoo…my very first (and probably my last!) in early February. My nephew owns a tattoo business in Florida. At the invitation of my son and daughter-in-law, we flew down for a long (and I might add, VERY COLD) weekend. While I was getting the tattoo, we talked about the history of the art of tattooing.

My daughter-in-law immediately got on her phone, offering information. When I heard that it was popular during the Civil War, my radar went up as I was researching interesting tidbits for my next book.

Tattoos have a long history as a means of identification in the military. In ancient Rome, mercenaries were marked with a permanent ink from acacia bark, corroded bronze and sulphuric acid to help in identifying deserters. When King Harold II was disfigured beyond recognition at the Battle of Hastings, his common-law wife was only able to recognize him based on his tattoos.

Tattoos were used to mark slaves, criminals, and gladiators, and the Latin word “stigma” was used to mean a brand, or scar–any permanent mark left on a person’s skin. When French and British traders met native people, they often recorded the markings on their bodies, instead of their names in trading logs. During the Revolutionary War, colonial sailors decorated themselves with symbols of their newborn country–the “goddess” Columbia, the face of George Washington, eagle with sheaves, or the American flag. 

“A sailor may not wear his heart upon his sleeve, but he does wear it upon his chest.”                                                                  E. Barnes

With the onset of the Civil War, these patriotic themes gained in popularity. Martin Hildebrandt, a talkative man with a crucifix inked on his back was happy to tell newspaper reporters about his unusual trade.

“During the war time I never had a moment’s idle time. I must have marked thousands of sailors and soldiers…I put the names of hundreds of soldiers on their arms or breasts, and many were recognized by these marks after being killed or wounded.” 

Tattooing can be excruciating (I can testify to that!) and in the Civil War, methods were relatively primitive and conditions less than sanitary. Hildebrandt’s tattoo method required about six #12 needles, bound together in a slanting form, dipped into India ink. The puncture of the skin was made at an angle, ensuring that the needles pricked only the surface. Colorants could be made up of ink and wet gunpowder. However, he was restricted to only two colors, blue and red.

       

“If we could only get a green to work into a wreath, the contrast would be charming, but I am afraid it can’t be done.”      M. Hildebrandt

After the tattoo was done, any excess blood and ink was washed off with water or alcohol, usually rum or brandy. Many a soldier had his name, regiment, and residence inked for identification. 

“Every regiment had its tattooers, with outfits of needles and India-ink who for a fee decorated the limbs and bodies of their comrades with flags, muskets, cannon…and patriotic emblems…It was like writing one’s own epitaph, but the custom prevented many bodies from being buried in ‘unknown’ graves.”                                           William Hinman

In addition to identification and patriotism, tattooing during the war was used to memorialize the experience of war and the lives of fellow soldiers. Much like the sailors who pioneered tattooing before them, these soldiers wanted to honor the memories of fallen comrades, to show regimental pride, and demonstrate their love for their homelands.

But beneath their clothes, many men held the marks from the war–voluntary scars to commemorate a shared trauma, claims of individuality in the face of mass death, assertions of humanity that couldn’t be taken away.

*******************A Giveway!*****************

To win a digital copy of “No Finer Dream,” comment on the following question…

Have you gotten OR would you be interested in getting a tattoo?

 

New release coming tomorrow, March 6th…

“Your journey doesn’t have to end in disappointment.”

Lila Hartley had waited for hours on the frozen train platform, a mail-order bride no one came to claim, her trunk beside her like a tombstone. The man who’d promised her marriage, a home, and a future, left her stranded two thousand miles from Boston with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart full of shattered dreams.
Just when hope was fading, a man emerged from the white curtain of snow like an apparition, took off his coat, and changed her life.

Clay McCallister viewed every woman who had taken a chance on the frontier as the sister he’d failed…a woman who’d risked everything for the possibility of something better, much like the woman standing on the platform in the bitter cold.

Sometimes warmth doesn’t always come from fire — sometimes it comes from the heart.

Pre-Order Link

 

 

Biscuits, Beans, and Bacon – What Cowboys Actually Ate

 

I’ve spent the better part of the week pouring over research for a new book. And as usual, I find myself going down the rabbit hole…AGAIN!

While looking for authentic Civil War recipes, I happened upon cowboy cuisine, and as much as I love, love, love cowboys, I don’t think I could handle a steady diet of biscuits, beans, and bacon.

The romantic image of cowboys feasting on juicy steaks by a roaring campfire differs from the gritty realities of life on the trail. Beyond the cattle drives, roping skills, and dusty landscapes, lay the daily struggle for survival, and a critical element of that survival, was of course food. What did these men, often far from civilization for months at a time, actually eat?

Beans were the undisputed backbone of trail cuisine for cowboys, favored for their durability and nutrition. Whether pinto or navy, these legumes provided a vital source of protein and fiber, keeping hunger at bay during long rides. Much like today’s camping meals, beans were easy to store, transport, and cook in a single pot over the fire.

Salt Pork and Bacon were prized trail foods, valued for their long shelf life and high calorie content. Unlike the bacon we know today, these cuts were heavily salted and cured, making them tough but ideal for travel. Preserving meat with salt or smoke was essential to prevent spoilage on the dusty plains.

 

Coffee, often called the cowboy elixir, was more than a beverage…it was a daily ritual and morale booster for weary cowboys. Brewed strong and black, coffee provided much-needed energy for long, grueling days. Without fancy equipment, cowboys simply boiled grounds over the campfire, sometimes letting the grounds settle or straining them through a bandana. Often, they used the same pot day after day, thus contributing to the unique flavor of cowboy coffee. (Note: I enjoy a cup of coffee first thing in the a.m. but require my hazelnut creamer or during the holidays, pumpkin pie spice!!!)

When real coffee ran out, they turned to resourceful substitutes like roasted chicory or dandelion roots. These stand-ins provide a warm bitter brew that mimicked coffee’s comfort, if not its flavor or strength.

Dried Fruit, like raisins, apples, or peaches, served as portable treats for the hard-working cowboys. They provided a rare sweetness and vitamins on the trail, breaking up the monotony of the constant savory dishes.

Canned Goods were a rare luxury on the trail, thanks to advancement in food preservation. Occasionally, cowboys enjoyed treated liked canned peaches or tomatoes. However, these items were heavy and expensive, so they appeared only when supply wagons had extra storage space. Still, even a single can could lift spirits and remind cowboys of comforts far from home.

Fresh Game supplemented the cowboys’ diet, its success dependent upon sharp shooting and the abundance of wildlife along the trail. Compared to salted pork or hardtack, rabbits, prairie chickens, or wild birds offered richer flavor and variety to their diet.

Sourdough Bread starters were a trail cook’s secret weapon for baking fresh bread or biscuits on the open range. Kept alive with regular feedings, these starters allowed cooks to whip up hearty, tangy loaves and fluffy biscuits right over the campfire.

Jerky–dried, salted strips of beef or buffalo–was a trail for its portability and long shelf life. ? Packed with protein, it could be eaten on the go, making it perfect for busy days in the saddle, providing energy when time or conditions make cooking impossible.

Molasses and Sugar were precious commodities on the trail, reserved for sweetening beans or biscuits on special occasions. Even a small spoonful transformed otherwise bland food, making them a special treat for cowboys craving a taste of sweetness.

Rice and Cornmeal added much-needed variety to the cowboy diet, often cooked into hearty porridges, grits, or mush. These staples reflected the influence of Southern and Mexican cooking. Cornbread, in particular, was a favorite, easily baked over coals, while rice provided a filling base, helping stretch meager rations even further.

Onions and Potatoes were tossed into stews, beans, or skillet meals, adding vital nutrition and ample flavor to otherwise plain dishes. These hardy vegetables could survive for weeks without spoiling, making them a practical addition to the chuck wagon’s limited pantry.

Dried Chili Peppers and Spices were essential for livening up bland trail food. Mexican vaqueros, in particular, brought the tradition of adding heat and flavor with chilis and seasonings–particularly in the colder weather–transforming meat or beans into a satisfying meal and adding a taste of home to the trail.

 

 

The real diet of cowboys was shaped by necessity, resourcefulness, and sheer grit. From beans and biscuits to foraged greens and rare treats like canned fruit, these simple, rugged meals fueled long days in the saddle and left a lasting imprint on American folklore. Their adaptability in the face of hardship is as legendary as their cattle drives.

Next time you enjoy a campfire meal, remember the inventive spirt of the Old West–and try adding a cowboy twist to your own menu!

***********************************

Coming next month…

Your journey doesn’t have to end in disappointment.”

Lila Hartley had waited for hours on the frozen train platform, a mail-order bride no one came to claim, her trunk beside her like a tombstone. The man who’d promised her marriage, a home, and a future, left her stranded two thousand miles from Boston with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart full of shattered dreams.

Just when hope was fading, a man emerged from the white curtain of snow like an apparition, took off his coat, and changed her life.

Clay McCallister viewed every woman who had taken a chance on the frontier as the sister he’d failed…a woman who’d risked everything for the possibility of something better, much like the woman standing on the platform in the bitter cold.

Sometimes warmth doesn’t always come from fire — sometimes it comes from the heart.

Pre-Order Link

 

 

 

 

Cowboys & Mistletoe (Week 2) – Jo-Ann Roberts

 

Welcome, friends, to Week Two of our Cowboys and Mistletoe celebration!

In addition to writing sweet historical romance, my second love is quilting. For more than twenty years, a group of 8-10 friends has gotten together for Quilt Week. It’s a 10-day retreat in the Pennsylvania Amish Country. We rent a house, sharing the cost. From 9 am to 9 pm, we quilt, eat, get ice cream, shop for fabric, go out to eat, quilt…you get the picture. When we started, we came up with the idea of a Quilting Challenge. At the end of Quilt Week, we pick a new pattern or a line of fabric and come up with a quilt. The following year, we show off our creations. We have donated these quilts to shelters, veterans’ groups, and hospitals.

So, when author Zina Abbott asked me if I’d be interested in taking part in the Christmas Quilt Bride series, I gave a very enthusiastic “YES!” I already had the quilting background, so the stories came together quickly. I am so very pleased my fellow Fillies have graciously and enthusiastically accepted my offer to create this quilt for the Grand Prize.

Christmas Brides of Harmony by Jo-Ann Roberts

It’s nearing Christmas in Harmony, Kansas and the Circle of Friends Quilting group is planning the Annual Christmas Quilt Giveaway. Here, the quilts are stitched with love and where the quilter weaves dreams into reality, one thread at a time.

Noelle
A widow reluctant to love again…
A deputy determined to win her heart…
With Christmas looming, will the growing attraction between Noelle and the deputy reveal the gift of a second chance? Or could a stranger from the deputy’s past threaten the man who captured her heart?

Hope
He was the most stubborn and prideful man she’d ever met.
She was a busybody who stuck her nose in his business at every turn!
As Christmas approaches, will they look beyond each other’s faults and see a future blossom from a special, once-in-a-lifetime friendship?

Ivy
He was the town bully.
She was his target.
Had anything changed?

Was Ivy Sutton willing and able to forgive the boy who made her childhood unbearable?
Can Grady Walsh make up for the reckless actions of his youth?
Or will another steal her away before they have a chance to discover a kind of love that might heal the pain from the past?

 BUY LINK

The Great Western Christmas Celebration

Let’s start with the basics – what time period are we going to set our story in?

Will it be Modern Day? Gold Rush? Civil War? Vietnam Era? A specific decade or year? Or even some time in the future? Chime in and tell us when this Christmas celebration should take place. We’ll reveal the year/period selected tomorrow.

Everyone who leaves a response by Saturday 12/13 will get their name entered in the random drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card.

All entries will also be eligible for our oh-so-beautiful Grand Prize – a gorgeous quilt hand made by our very own Jo-Ann Roberts

 

NOTE: ALL winners will be announced on Sunday 12/14.

Welcome to Day 3 of Cowboys & Mistletoe (Week 1)

Here are the Charms and clues for today, presented in no particular order:

I chose a piano to represent my story because it wasn’t until I gave a child in my household her first piano lessons that I found my true calling in life.

 

 

I chose a fish to represent my story because one day my entire life changed during a chance encounter while fishing in Twisty Creek.

 

When you’re ready to guess, you can log your responses AT THIS LINK.

DO NOT respond in the comments – your entry will only count when logged at the link noted.

 

POST 1 OF 2 FOR WEDNESDAY
CHRISTMAS STOCKING SWEETHEARTS Book 4
Jo-Ann Roberts’ Holly In His Heart

 

Will a dose of Mother Nature’s magic and a bit of divine intervention make a little boy’s Christmas wish come true?

 

What is a boy to do when he is trying to play matchmaker for his father? Seven-year-old Danny Stone is working hard to help his lonely widower father find love again. When a pretty, new teacher moves to Angel Falls, Danny believes she is the perfect choice. But his matchmaking attempts have not been successful until a snowstorm hits and strands Miss Holly at their farm.

Fleeing an ill-fated relationship, Holly Ross accepts an interim teaching position in Angel Falls, Kansas. During the first week, she is knocked down by a stranger, and his rude behavior raises her annoyance when he insists he saved her life…not that she believed she needed saving. When she discovers Jesse Stone is the father of one of her students, she vows to give the man a wide berth. But when Danny leaves behind a scarf belonging to his late mother, she makes a decision that will alter her Christmas plans…and her life.

Since his wife’s passing, Jesse Stone has no interest nor the time for romance. With a herd, a ranch, and a seven-year-old son to raise, the last thing he needs is ungrateful criticism from a woman he saved from being hit by a wagon. His irritation grows when he discovers Holly Ross is the new teacher his son keeps praising…and the feeling is mutual. So, she is the last person he expects to see at his door at the start of a blizzard.
And here’s your “What’s In Your Christmas Stocking” question for this morning.
“Your stocking contains a Christmas song lyric scribbled on a napkin. What’s the line and the title of the carol?”
You could win a $10 Amazon gift card or our Grand Prize quilt!
ALL PRIZE WINNERS WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14th

A Journey Through History and Charm

 

There’s something timeless about a covered bridge. These historic wooden structures are scattered across the American landscape, each one a reminder of a simpler era when horse-drawn wagons and early automobiles rumbled over creaky floorboards, protected from the weather by the bridge’s iconic roof and walls.

Three weeks ago, after a nasty fall with a glass in my hand, I found myself unable to do much of anything around the house. After my husband handed me a drink (in a plastic cup, no less!) and insisted I sit down, I scanned the movies on YouTube. Much to my delight, I found two favorites, “Friendly Persuasion” and “The Bridges of Madison County.”

   

It wasn’t until the next day that I realized both featured covered bridges and it ignited a quest to find out more about this iconic structure.

Simply having a roof doesn’t necessarily make a structure a true covered bridge, though. Underneath every authentic covered bridge is its truss system, a network of beams, often in the shape of triangles, that distributes the weight of the bridge and the load it carries on its deck. The trusses, though rugged in appearance, require precision, and building one often took a whole village — quite literally.  Dozens, if not hundreds, of skilled workers from the community were involved: sawyers to prepare the rough-cut logs, timber framers to properly place the beams, and stonemasons to build the abutments, to name a few. Throughout the 19th century, covered bridges popped up wherever rivers and streams needed crossing — especially in the Northeast and Midwest. Each bridge showcased the craftsmanship of local builders and engineers, many of whom developed their own unique truss designs, like the Burr Arch or the Town Lattice.

Covered bridges first appeared in the United States in the early 1800s. The very first was built in 1805 over the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Known as the “Permanent Bridge”, it was designed by Timothy Palmer and set the stage for thousands more to come.

But why cover a bridge? The simple answer is durability. Wooden bridges exposed to rain, snow, and sun would quickly deteriorate. By adding a roof and siding, builders could protect the timber trusses, extending a bridge’s life from just 10-15 years to more than 70 or even 100 years.

Building a bridge was a major undertaking that required careful planning and a substantial community investment of time, labor, and materials. In the days before weatherproofed lumber, walls and a roof could extend a valuable bridge’s lifespan by shielding the truss system and keeping structural timbers dry.

With the increasing importance of locomotive transportation in the 19th century, iron was adopted for covered bridges to carry the heavy loadings of the railroad. At first metal was used for only part of the truss, in either vertical or diagonal members, and later for the whole truss. Cast iron and wrought iron were soon replaced by steel, and a principal form of the modern railroad bridge rapidly evolved.

At their peak in the 1800s, the United States had an estimated 12,000 covered bridges. Today, that number has dwindled to around 700-1,000, thanks to modernization, floods, fires, and neglect. But these survivors are now fiercely protected by local historical societies, states, and bridge enthusiasts.

Fun fact: Pennsylvania still holds the record for the most covered bridges in the country, with over 200 remaining!

In spite of their pure functionality, people came up with their own interpretations for covered bridges. Common beliefs emerged that a roof strengthened a bridge or protected the floor planks from rain and snow. Many came to think that covered bridges were built to shelter the people and animals traversing them, and some claimed the barn-like appearance calmed uneasy animals crossing over rushing water. Storytellers showcased covered bridges in tales ranging from the romantic to the mythical. These misunderstandings and cultural references encouraged the association of covered bridges with a “simpler time.”

They also served as gathering places and even inspired local lore — such as the tradition of couples sharing a covert kiss under the roof, inspiring the name “kissing bridges.”  It’s an old tradition from the horse-and-buggy days, when a boy would stop halfway across a covered bridge where it was quiet to give his girl a kiss.

 

 

While covered bridges once dotted nearly every state, today you’ll find the highest numbers mostly in the Northeast and Midwest — plus a few surprising spots out West.

Pennsylvania: ~210                            Vermont: ~100+
Ohio: ~125+                                            Indiana: ~90+
New Hampshire: ~50+                     Oregon: ~50+
New York: ~30+                                   Iowa: ~20+
Virginia: ~7                                           California: ~10
Georgia: ~15                                         West Virginia – 17

Covered bridges, like a piece of living history, connect us to a time when engineering was practical, beautiful, and built by hand. They’re reminders of our rural heritage and the communities that rallied to preserve them.

Roseman Bridge in Winterset, Iowa

So, the next time you spot a covered bridge sign on your travels, make a detour. Walk through it, snap a photo, and imagine the echo of horses’ hooves or wagon wheels rolling through the past.

 

An Upcoming Release…Just in Time for Christmas!

This anthology contains three standalone, yet inter-connected, books based in Harmony, Kansas. It’s nearing Christmas and the Circle of Friends Quilting group is planning the Annual Christmas Quilt Giveaway. Here, the quilts are stitched with love and where the quilter weaves dreams into reality, one thread at a time.

Noelle
A widow reluctant to love again…
A deputy determined to win her heart…
With Christmas looming, will the growing attraction between Noelle and the deputy reveal the gift of a second chance? Or could a stranger from the deputy’s past threaten the man who captured her heart?

Hope
He was the most stubborn and prideful man she’d ever met.
She was a busybody who stuck her nose in his business at every turn!
As Christmas approaches, will they look beyond each other’s faults and see a future blossom from a special, once-in-a-lifetime friendship?

Ivy
He was the town bully.
She was his target.
Had anything changed?

Was Ivy Sutton willing and able to forgive the boy who made her childhood unbearable?
Can Grady Walsh make up for the reckless actions of his youth?
Or will another steal her away before they have a chance to discover a kind of love that might heal the pain from the past?

 

Pre-Order Link

A Leaf Peeper’s Paradise

 

Happy October, friends!

Though I no longer live in New England, I become nostalgic as summer turns to autumn, watching the leaves turn gold, russet, and red, the scent of chimney smoke, the starkness of the quarter moon, and the brilliance of the stars in the clear, dark skies.

And, I suppose this is what those visitors (leaf peepers!) experience when they flock to the highways and back roads of New England.

Growing up in the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts, I didn’t think much about the leaf-peepers coming into the city. I lived here, went to school, church, and played with friends. The changing leaves was nothing new. Yet, leaf-peeping was BIG business for the merchants, and continues to this day. (The photo on left is similar to the view from my former bedroom window.)

   

In Japan, leaf-peeping is known as momiji-gari, often translated as “hunting red leaves.” In Finland, ruska describes the colorful leaves themselves.

While the United States boasts breathtaking displays everywhere from Texas to Minnesota, it’s hard to deny that the Northeast is queen of the season—a position the region has held for at least a century and a half. Lifelong Massachusetts resident Henry David Thoreau once called October “the month of painted leaves.”

Emily Dickinson, another 19th-century Massachusetts poet, also distinguished the maple in the last stanza of her poem “Autumn”:

“The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.”

In October 1863, a New York correspondent for New Orleans’s Times-Picayune wrote that “When American poets first began to talk about the ‘gorgeousness’ of October” in the Northeast, “they were heartily laughed at abroad and at the South, and their enthusiasm was looked upon as extravagant.” But “that was years ago,” the writer said, and travelers had since realized that the area’s annual “color show” truly was spectacular.

As the century progressed, that color show became a selling point for autumnal excursions. An 1877 advertisement for a resort in the Catskills (just over the state lines of Massachusetts, Connecticut and Vermont), highlighted “magnificent mountains, beautiful fall foliage and fine partridge shooting.” A September 1884 briefing in Connecticut’s Hartford Courant mentioned the popularity of taking the 8:40 a.m. train from Hartford to the Hudson River, having lunch, and coming right home.

Though the bulk of this activity was centered in the Northeast, the Wes and Midwest weren’t oblivious to their own botanical marvels. The Cincinnati Enquirer encouraged people on one October Sunday in 1887 to visit the city’s zoo, “now radiant in all the glory of fall foliage,” and in September 1906, Washington’s Spokane Chronicle included a notice about a $2 round-trip steamer ride down the Saint Joe River, with its “superb fall tinted foliage and perfect river reflections.”

Tourism likewise ramped up in Vermont at this time, largely to natural spas, with fall foliage providing an added attraction. By the 1930s and 1940s, New England’s fall tourism industry was reportedly in full swing, with a Vermont newspaper describing the six-state region as a “mecca” for those seeking colorful foliage. Then, in the mid-1960s, the Bennington Banner, another Vermont newspaper, published the first-known reference to “leaf peepers,” an apparent spinoff of “leaf peekers” that has remained in the popular lexicon ever since.

Though New England is the sweet spot for viewing the golds, reds, and burgundy leaves, vivid foliage displays can be seen across much of the United States, from lemon-colored aspens in the Rocky Mountains to cinnamon-brown bald cypresses in the Southeast.

 So, the next time you find yourself gazing at a particularly stunning maple or aspen leaf, take a moment to appreciate not just the leaves, but the fact that you’re participating in a long-standing tradition. You’re not just a casual observer; you’re a leaf peeper, part of a proud, slightly quirky lineage that stretches back centuries.

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For a chance to win an e-book edition of “Caroline’s Challenge”, tell us if you have ever gone “leaf peeping” near your home or taken a trip to witness the annual spectacle of leaves changing colors.

There’s always one risk in life worth taking.

Caroline Stoddard clung to Sister Benedict’s words like a lifeline as the train took her across the country from Boston to Pine Ridge, Colorado. After learning the orphanage was closing and she’d be without a roof over her head and a teaching position, she couldn’t have been more surprised when the Prioress referred her to Millie Crenshaw, owner of the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency.

But life had another surprise in store for Caroline when she stepped off the train in Pine Ridge, Colorado. Instead of the new start she expected with James Murdock, her intended groom, he is nowhere to be found. With only a few coins to her name and no reason to return to Boston, she’s determined to make the best of it in this rugged land.

As the deputy sheriff in Pine Ridge, Knox Manning is haunted by a robbery gone wrong, making him question his ability to protect the town, and a stranded woman at the train depot with nowhere to go is the last thing he needs. But walking away isn’t in his nature. The badge he wears is both an anchor and a burden, one that caused him to sacrifice the one thing he always wanted—a chance for a home and a family.

Just as they begin to see each other in ways neither expected, and Knox dares to dream about a future with Caroline, the town of Pine Ridge is threatened by the same outlaws he’d been tracking for two years.

When Caroline is abducted, Knox realizes the gang had given him something worth fighting for—worth dying for, if necessary.

But more importantly, worth living for.

CLICK HERE

 

The Forgotten Epidemic

We recently purchased a new television and, at the urging of our children, moved into the 21st century (25 years late!), dropped cable and picked up Netflix, YouTube, and Amazon Prime.

Admittedly, I’ve become addicted to reruns of “Downton Abbey”. Recently, I watched the episode where Cora contracted the Spanish Flu, which renewed my interest in the 1918 epidemic, mainly because it plays an indirect link to my ancestry.

And because I’m thinking about writing a romance based on my then-widowed grandmother, Olivetta DeJulio, who lost her first husband to the epidemic, then married my grandfather, Luigi D’Ambrosi.

But first, here’s a bit about America before the 1918 epidemic. The United States was involved in a world war, but despite that, people had more leisure time than any previous generation. They flocked to dance halls, pool halls, movies, and roller-skating rinks. Fans were obsessed with Hollywood celebrities and went to the movies regularly.

Though phone companies were working hard to expand their limited lines, the use of telephones up to 1918 was expensive. People traveling by rail tripled from 1896 to 1918. Only a Few Americans could afford cars. But Henry Ford, with his innovations, was about to change everything. So, the only way people could get news was from the newspapers. Every small town had at least one newspaper. Breaking news that needed to get out was done by printing another newspaper. These papers were called ‘extra’…now you know how the phrase, “Extra, extra, read all about it!” came about.

However, I digress…back to the epidemic of 1918.

There were two waves of the flu in the spring and fall. Though called the Spanish flu, it didn’t originate in Spain. They really don’t know for sure where it originated. Three suggestions are East Asia, Europe, or even Kansas. Why Kansas? It was March 9, 1918, at Fort Riley, Kansas, where 26,000 troops were stationed. They had several thousand horses and mules that deposited large amounts of manure. The problem arose of disposing of it. They decided burning it would be a good idea. March 9th brought a harsh dust storm, the combination of sand, dust, and manure ash stung the skin and offended the nose. The storm was so bad that it nearly blocked out the sun. Two days later, on March 11th, 100 men reported to the infirmary, all complaining of the same ailments of a bad cold. Whether or not this was the point of origin of the 1918 influenza that took over 600,000 American lives, we will probably never know. The epidemic spread not only within the U.S. but the abroad as well. By November 1918, the whole world was affected by the growing pandemic.

So, who died in this epidemic? You might think the young and old. If you guessed that, you’d be wrong. The 1918 pandemic disproportionately killed the healthy young adults. The reason wasn’t known why then, but through research, experts have discovered the virus killed through an overreaction of its immune system. The stronger the immune system, the stronger the reaction. Therefore, the young adults were far more susceptible, whereas a child or middle-aged adult had a milder reaction. Tragically, death came quickly. Victims had such a violent immune response that there are stories where people died within hours of showing symptoms of the flu. Their lungs would fill with fluids, and they would suffocate. The medical professionals of the time were helpless to stop the toll that the influenza took on young adults.

World War I added to the complications of the 1918 flu. Many doctors and nurses were overseas helping save our soldiers from sickness and wounds, leaving the United States short on clinicians. Struggling to keep up with the growing need, retired doctors were requested back to work, and medical students were summoned from their studies to help aid the sick.

Hospitals were so overwhelmed and overloaded with the sick that schools, buildings, church parish houses, armories, and even private homes were used as makeshift hospitals.

In attempts to slow the virus, schools, theaters, and churches were ordered closed in many cities. Some communities imposed quarantines as well as demanded that people wear masks.

Morgues were overloaded, caskets were in short supply, and secondary diseases were cropping up due to the lack of disposal of bodies quickly. Cities everywhere were running into the same problems. Casket companies were told they couldn’t make ornate coffins—they all had to be plain. In some places, public funerals were banned. All coffins had to remain closed unless they were identifying a body, and then they had to cover their mouth and noses.

With entertainment big business and all those people getting together, it became a huge concern for public health experts. At the height of the epidemic, government officials rushed in and closed many entertainment venues, fearing the spread of the virus. Since rail systems were so popular, it became an easy channel for the spread of the influenza virus. During the epidemic, cities became concerned about how easily the virus spread, causing some cities to limit and even close their transportation systems. Many cities that remained open had people wearing masks to reduce the risk of infection.

Onto a personal note…as I mentioned earlier, my maternal grandmother lost her husband to the Spanish flu. In 1919, she found herself a widow with four children. She nearly lost her oldest son, my Uncle Phil, too. Thinking he had succumbed, she called the coroner. Once he arrived, he noticed a twitching in his limbs. I’m happy to say he went on to live a long life as a tugboat operator on the Hudson River.

As the epidemic claimed more lives, family dynamics changed, leaving orphans, widows, and widowers.

 

One day, two women approached my grandmother asking to adopt my Aunt Jean and Aunt Mary. They surmised (wrongly so, in my grandmother’s opinion) that she would be better off with fewer children to raise. She sent them on their way, married her sister’s brother-in-law, and ultimately had five more children.

The 1918-1919 pandemic led to improvements in health education, isolation, and sanitation. It improved our understanding of influenza transmission, which is still implemented today to stop the spread of a disease that carries a heavy burden.

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On a much, much brighter note, I have a new book releasing September 20th!!

Pre-Order Link

Caroline Stoddard clung to Sister Benedict’s words like a lifeline as the train took her across the country from Boston to Pine Ridge, Colorado. After learning the orphanage was closing and she’d be without a roof over her head and a teaching position, she couldn’t have been more surprised when the Prioress referred her to Millie Crenshaw, owner of the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency.

But life had another surprise in store for Caroline when she stepped off the train in Pine Ridge, Colorado. Instead of the new start she expected with James Murdock, her intended groom, he is nowhere to be found. With only a few coins to her name and no reason to return to Boston, she’s determined to make the best of it in this rugged land.

As the deputy sheriff in Pine Ridge, Knox Manning is haunted by a robbery gone wrong, making him question his ability to protect the town, and a stranded woman at the train depot with nowhere to go is the last thing he needs. But walking away isn’t in his nature. The badge he wears is both an anchor and a burden, one that caused him to sacrifice the one thing he always wanted—a chance for a home and a family.

Just as they begin to see each other in ways neither expected, and Knox dares to dream about a future with Caroline, the town of Pine Ridge is threatened by the same outlaws he’d been tracking for two years.

When Caroline is abducted, Knox realizes the gang had given him something worth fighting for—worth dying for, if necessary.

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A Short Story of Victorian Mourning Cookies

 

Imagine a knock at the door, and when you answer, the caller hands you a package. It contains a package. It contains a wrapped packet of biscuits tied with a black ribbon. Instantly, you know there’s been a death, and this is your invitation to the funeral.”

While searching for cookies popular in the mid-to-late 19th century, for my September release, Caroline’s Challenge (Westward Home and Hearts), a link to funeral cookies popped up. Having never heard of this concept, my interest was piqued for two reasons. First, the topic sounded so unusual that I wondered if any readers of Petticoats & Pistols might have knowledge of it, and second, maybe I could use it for a scene in the book! And while it might appear a bit creepy at first, I came to understand that it was a way the family and mourners honored the deceased.

Funeral biscuits were part of the ritual of a funeral in the mid-to-late 19th century in the United Kingdom and America. These were not made at home, but by a confectioner, or baker, as this was considered a sign of status. They varied in size, shape, and consistency, but carried a message of mourning, honor, and remembrance. Between two and six biscuits were bundled in wax paper, sealed with black wax, and tied with black ribbon. Sometimes, this wrapping bore a design with the usual hearts, cupids, and (gasp!) skulls. At other times, the wrapper was the death notice of the deceased, a poem, or a Bible verse.

At the height of the Victorian Age — around the same time as the U.S. Civil War — the Victorian poetry on funeral biscuit wrappings was as maudlin and overwrought as the Victorian garden cemeteries to which the dead were dispatched.

While surviving recipes are rare, those that do exist suggest a sweet similar to shortbread or a molasses cookie. The shortbread style was often pressed into a wooden mold that bore a design such as an hourglass, heart, cross, or cupid.

The ingredients chosen for these biscuits were laden with symbolism. Anise, known for its soothing properties, was often included for its calming effect on the mourners. Caraway seeds, with their slightly bitter taste, symbolized the bitterness of loss. And a touch of rosewater added a delicate floral note, evoking memories of the departed.

     

Funeral biscuits were common among British and German Americans from Virginia to Pennsylvania, and some traditions even included the practice of consuming them with wine or spirits.

Sometimes, the biscuits were delivered to mourners in advance, acting as a death announcement and invitation to the funeral, similar to the opening quote above. Some were given out when people went to the house to pay their respects. One account from Montgomery County near Philadelphia stated that mourners going from the church to the graveyard would first stop by a young woman holding a tray of biscuits, and then again at a young man inviting them to sip on spirits, ending up with a mouthful of each. Other biscuits were handed out at the viewing, to be opened and eaten at home, with the printed wrapper as a memento, or mailed to those who couldn’t attend the funeral.

Prior to the oh-so-hygienic funeral homes of today, family members awaited burial in the home–in the parlor, if the house had such a room. (Author’s Note: My late mother-in-law owned a quintessential two-story Victorian house on Cape Cod with a wrap-around porch, a borning room upstairs, and a dying room downstairs, just inside the front door.)

In the end, Victorian Mourning Biscuits remind us that food has always played a role beyond nourishment. It has the power to connect us with our past, express our emotions, and provide comfort in times of sorrow. So, next time you enjoy a biscuit, take a moment to appreciate the rich history and heartfelt sentiments that can be woven into every bite.

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Tell us a fun or unusual fact you discovered while browsing the internet.

 

Here’s a sneak peek of my upcoming release, Caroline’s Challenge (Westward Home and Hearts Book #65)

“Next stop, Pine Ridge. Twenty minutes lay over only,” the conductor bellowed as he passed through the car.

Soon, the train began to slow, the brakes screeching in protest as Pine Ridge came into view. It was larger than Caroline had expected, a proper town rather than the cluster of rough buildings she’d imagined. A church steeple rose above the pines, and a main street lined with wooden buildings stretched to meet the horizon. In the distance, the mountains loomed with their peaks still capped with snow.

Caroline smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and collected her belongings with trembling hands as the comfortable routine of the journey came to an end and reality awaited her on the platform ahead. Jane Trahern had disembarked in North Platte, Nebraska, leaving her to face the final moment alone.

“Watch your step, ma’am,” the conductor advised, providing a wooden block for passengers to make the transition from the train to the platform. “I had the porter put your trunk near the ticket office. Enjoy your stay in Pine Ridge.”

The station was considerably smaller than Boston’s, but no less busy. Miners, cowboys, and farmers crowded the platform, calling out greetings and searching for familiar faces. Caroline scanned the crowd anxiously, looking for the face that matched the daguerreotype she held in her reticule. But as the minutes ticked by and the crowd dispersed, she saw no sign of James Murdock.

Ignoring the niggling panic running down her spine and the unexpected afternoon heat, Caroline made her way to the ticket office. The man behind the counter never looked up as his pencil scratched across the paper in front of him. Finally, she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for James Murdock. He was supposed to meet me here.”

The clerk stopped his scribbling long enough to look up. His expression shifted from annoyance to something uncomfortably close to pity. “Murdock? The mercantile owner?”

“Yes, we’ve been corresponding for some months regarding a matrimonial arrangement. ”Heat burned in her cheeks at the admission to a complete stranger.

The man cleared his throat, suddenly returning with great interest to his ledger. “Miss, perhaps you should speak with Sheriff Landers in the morning. I believe there’s been a situation with Mr. Murdock.”

Something in his tone made Caroline’s stomach lurch. As the other passengers found their parties and left, she remained on the platform watching her dream of a new life and family fade into nothingness. The weight of her decision to seek out Millie Crenshaw, to accept James Murdock’s proposal, and travel to Pine Creek pressed down on her shoulders like a millstone.

Her fingers found her cross, gripping it as if it were a lifeline, her lips moving in silent prayer. Though she had coins in her reticule, it certainly wasn’t enough for a return ticket, nor did she have any connections in Colorado.

She stepped off the platform onto the street, shading her eyes with one hand against the sun and dust motes swirling in the air. The main street of Pine Creek stretched out before her, a mixture of wooden boardwalks and false-fronted buildings that reached toward the wide Colorado sky. Women in practical dresses hurried about their errands while cowboys lounged outside the saloon, their spurs catching the late afternoon sun. Going up on her toes, she stretched her neck toward the horizon as if the movement might produce her intended groom.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in brilliant hues of purple and gold, Caroline returned to stand alone on the platform. She breathed deeply of the pine-scented air, straightened her spine as she had done so many times at St. Girard’s when facing challenging tasks. Whatever came next, she would confront it with courage and faith.

Little did she know that the Lord’s plan for her life was about to change in ways she could never have imagined.